Gondorian Heirs
by Pranaya Rosa
Summary: Tara from OUR world suddenly finds herself in the LotR world, an undiscovered portion of the Universe that Tara grows to love. Along with the men within it. Boromir is untrusting at first, but Faramir's gentle heart supercedes his brother's military mind
1. Chapter 1

Tara ran through the trees, feeling the jagged branches scratch her face and tear her t-shirt. Her arms did little to protect her.

She could hear the mossy ground vibrate under her from the thundering hooves of her attackers. They were gaining on her. She willed herself to sprint faster. She had been a runner since 7th grade, but she was a perseverance runner, not a racer. Her legs were long and lean for treks, not bulky for bursts of speed. Her lungs burned hotly and her mouth was dry. She racked her mind trying to figure out where she was or how she got here.

"I see her!"

She felt a physical jolt at the gruff voice and felt her eyes well up. She didn't realize they were so close. Tears streamed down her hot cheeks and she slowed to a stop. She wasn't going to outrun horses. She'd face them dead on. Tara's breathing was laboured; her chest heaved. Tears were blurring her vision, so she wiped her eyes quickly, and looked around for a weapon.

She was in a meadow now, with a few trees scattered about. The ground beneath her shook and her eyes scanned the ground desperately. She groaned as she settled for a pointed rock and stood in battle position, body locked down in defensive mode. The stones and twigs at her feet began to dance as the horses drew near. Tara wiped her eyes again and glared menacingly. If she was going to die today, one of them was going down with her.

Her heart was thumping in her chest, her blood rushing through her head. Her hands were shaking with the adrenaline surging through her veins, and her knees were trembling. She felt a cold chill as her heart faltered and she realized she couldn't do this. She couldn't fight. Whoever these people were, she couldn't fight them with a rock. Her fist clenched around the black stone in her hand and she ran. She ran swift and hard, now that she had a moment of recovery. Her legs felt like steel as they propelled her forward with renewed strength, jumping over streams and fallen trees.

With a flash of genius, she realized that she could only hear horses, not dogs. She could hide and they'd run past her without knowing. She focused all her attention on the sounds around her; her hearing acute. She smiled in relief and crawled into a hallow log a few meters away from where she stood. At first, she hesitated, imagining what was inside the rotten wood. Her mind recalled The Discovery Channel and all the nature shows she had spent her idle hours watching. She felt tears again as she forced herself to brave all the beatles, spiders, and centipedes that fate had in store for her. She shuddered as she thought that she'd rather face whoever was chasing her than be mauled by vicious life-sucking insects. That's right. Mauled.

Her thoughts hushed as the thunderous stampede of racing horses passed her log by. She held her breath, listening hard, and clenched her eyes shut whenever she felt something move against her leg. She shifted her legs and held them inbetween her arms. She'd shower with Comet tonight; a heavy dish-washing detergent with bleach. Infact, she'd take a bath in it. She shivered again when she imagined all the things that were crawling all over her body right now, and getting caught in her hair. She froze as she heard something on top of her. Something was standing on her log. She wrote the sound off as an animal. Perhaps a rabbit or a squirrel. She had never seen a wild rabbit in real life before. She contemplated the difference between a rabbit and a hare. She didn't even know what a hare looked like. All she knew was that it was a rabbit. But not. She wondered what the potential differences were and made a mental note to google 'hare' when she got home.

Tara felt something move against her leg again, and clenched her jaw shut, trying not to yelp. She heard no more noise, so she cautiously crawled out of the log; peeking her head out slowly, and looking both ways before exposing herself to the wilderness once again.

She got up and stood in front of her log, brushing herself off hard; wanting no traces of where she had been. She bent over, shaking her long, jet black hair out. Her curls and waves bounced around and she flipped them back, taking a deep breath.

Tara examined her arms and legs, her t-shirt and short-shorts seemed to have provided a shoddy defence for her body. Her light yellow t-shirt had the image of a cow standing in front of a glass of milk in an aggressive pose. The word bubbles around the images said, "Milk, I am your father," and the glass of milk shouting, "Nooooooo!". The shirt was ripped in three different places; the right shoulder, around the chest, and above her belly-button. Her jean shorts were fine, but her legs had red welts all over them, as did her arms. The small cuts and scratches were bleeding faintly, but Tara paid no mind. She had to find refuge somewhere before the horsemen came back. She turned around to walk back the way she came and she froze. Her veins went ice cold and she felt like she had been punched in the gut.

"Name yourself." The man said menacingly as he pointed his sword at her throat. Tara couldn't find the words to speak. Her lungs had no air. Her mind was not functioning. "You will speak when you are spoken to." He threatened. He stepped closed and angled his large blade against her throat. "Where is your orc master?"

Tara felt a rush of emotions flow through her. First she regretted not looking behind her, on top of the log, before she crawled out of the log. Secondly, she felt sad that the last thing she said to her Dad was, "I'm busy." Third, she was bewildered at the weapon currently in her face. A fucking sword? Would a prehistoric weapon like this be as effective in killing her as a gun would be? Or would she stay conscious for a few agonizing minutes till she bled to death? Fourth… fear. Absolute fear gripped every muscle in her body as she stared at the sword-tip before her. She quivered from the cold, the sheen of light sweat catching up to her. Tears seeped out from her eyes and the man before her blurred. She lowered her gaze in defeat and sullenly waited for death to come.

He lifted her chin with the flat side of his blade roughly.

"I will not ask you again, woman."

Tara sniffled and racked her brain as she tried to remember what he wanted. After wiping her eyes and nose, she said, "Tara. My name is Tara."

"Where is your Master?" His voice was monotone, and his eyes held confusion and contempt. She didn't understand the question. She squinted up at him, the sun was directly behind him. His hair billowed as the sunlight made his chestnet brown hair glow. She ran his question through her mind again and again and looked down for a moment to contemplate. He tilted her face up again. "Answer."

"I.. I don't un-understand…" For the first time, Tara noticed how badly her body was shaking. Her hands were shaking visibly, and her knees were trembling. The thought of her weakness in the face of certain death made her cry harder. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be the daughter her father raised her to be. A few sobs racked her as she thought of her Dad. She covered her face in shame, crying harder at her ever apparent weakness. Eventually, she fell to her knees and halted all effort of hiding her sorrow. Tara no longer cared about appearances. She just wanted this to end. Maybe if she looked pathetic enough, he would kill her faster.

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I've only ever found two awesome Boromir or Faramir fics out there. The 1st is not from this site, and the 2nd, is written by PurpleHaze09, but just when the story got to the juicy part, she stopped updating. Not that I'm mad, cuz I'm a horrible updater myself, lol.

I'm writing this fic for myself because I'd like to see how a relationship between each of the brothers would play out. : )

LOVE,

Angelina


	2. Chapter 2

The man before her wore a heavy hooded cloak, held together by an intricate silver clasp with swirls of gold highlighting the ridges. Under it, he wore a type of metal armour which Tara was unfamiliar with. '_Medieval_' was the first thought that flashed in her mind's eye.

"Who is your Master!" The octaves of his words rung in her ears. Daring to meet his gaze, Tara felt her spine tingle at the ferocity of his chilling grey eyes; his brow was covered in the sweat of the chase. He glared menacingly at her as if she was a putrid evil he needed to rid the world of. Confusion almost overrode her mind-numbing fear.

His heavily crafted sword glinted in the light, causing the Tara to flinch. She felt air leave her lungs in an effort to utter something. Anything. Sound evaded her. But Boromir waited, running his eyes over the orc-spy. The long hair plastered to her face was the blackest of black, although the blood seeping into her coverings was as red as his. Tara felt warm turn into cool on her abdomen. She tried to feel pain to keep herself from blacking out, to stop the spinning, but she felt no pain. Only cold.

Her lack of co-operation frustrated him. She may very well die by way of bleeding, without him getting any facts from her. For a moment, he was torn;

He wanted information. But he also wanted her dead.

And while he wanted her dead, he wanted it to be by his sword.

The Captain's breath was loud and slow. He matched it to the witch's, and realized she was dying faster than anticipated. She was going to fade out.

"Boromir!" cried another man. Tara paid no attention to the figure springing forth through the forest towards them. All she focused on were the sensations and vibrations around her. The cooling of her bloodied t-shirt, the ripples of sound in her sphere… her slow breath, and her even slower heartbeat. Closing her eyes, she was ready for death to take her. She never feared it, but she hadn't expected it to come so soon.

"Menilmir!" Cried Faramir, agitated by his brother's indifference to the woman's suffering. "Menilmir!" A burly man with an untrimmed red beard made haste towards the noble archer. His gut was larger than that of his fellow soldiers, as he was not a warrior, he was a healer who Boromir and Faramir trusted with their lives, having known each other since infancy. The brothers had yet to venture a single journey without Melinmir by their side.

"We must stop the bleeding, milord." Melinmir huffed out, obviously challenged by the chase the mysterious woman led. "Put pressure on the wound, here." The healer worked quickly, unraveling his rough strips of cotton. Faramir tried to let calm take him, for if she were to live by work of anyone's hands, it was Melinmir's.

Tara, through half-lidded eyes, spoke out to the angel with warm hands. He felt like an oven against her torso, and she revelled in the feeling. The contrast between the cold of her body and the heat of his reminded her of a hot bath on frigid Winter mornings. Especially Sundays, when she was entitled to guiltless relaxation, facing another week's worth of dreary desk work. She whispered her lust for a bath, almost too low for the two men to hear. She asked again.

Faramir caught the faint smile on the lovely face of the dying girl.

It terrified him.


	3. Chapter 3

Boromir was furious.

He was glad the woman survived up until now, but that only increased his want to feel the slick blade of his sword in her flesh… to turn it once it penetrated her, and to hear her shriek her vile orc-language.

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to wait. Interrogation would come first to discover her origin and the identity of her Master. He wanted to know who could train a spy so well that she could penetrate the perimeter of his armed guards, without any of his soldiers realizing it until she absurdly stepped out of the dense forest. Boromir pondered. Magic _must_ have been involved. There was no doubt she was a witch.

Meanwhile, Faramir sat close to the half-naked woman, gripping her arm to gauge the temperature of her body. It hadn't decreased in the last hour, which was a good sign, however the lack of blood would keep her weak for a few days. He tucked the blankets around her body again and sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. The brothers hadn't disagreed this heatedly with each other for many years. Not since before they were soldiers of Gondor.

Tara sighed in her sleep, and hugged her legs subconciously. She was cold, and Faramir hated that he could do nothing about it.

After a few moments of grief for her pain, he let himself take in her face. Her long, dark hair framed an oval face, which looked ashen at the moment. He tried to imagine the colour in her cheeks when she returned to full-health. Faramir caught himself. _If_… she returned to full-health. Her lips were full, but blue and slightly chapped, likely from the running she endured before her capture. Her jaw was feminine, but strong, and he ran his thumb over a deep cut along the bottom of it. She was bleeding in several places, but Melinmir only had enough resources to handle her most serious injury. The journey to Rivendell would be another 6 days, and anything could happen in that time to the other soldiers. Faramir understood the logic, for he also cared for his men, but hated the fact. He quietly accepted it, and willed her a speedy recovery.

The tightly bound blankets around her body gave him a view of her delectible shape. She was taller than average, with strong legs, and a supple torso. Her breasts were shapely, as he noticed through her thin coverings while they stopped the bleeding.

Faramir stopped himself.

This girl was clinging to her life and he was taking advantage of her vulnerability. He shook his head to himself and trudged away from her. She needn't require any guards, for she was far too weak to accomplish anything of significance.

He made his way to his Chief; his brother.

"The lust for blood is evident on your face." Faramir sighed inwardly.

"It won't be too long. She will be concious soon enough. And then she will die."

Cool, grey eyes came in contact with liquid blue ones.

"We cannot make hasty assumptions. She is of our race, not orc-kind. She has rights to a trial before you accuse her, Bor—."

"She could have killed our men, Faramir," he spat, "She could have killed _you_ or _Melinmir_… have you considered the possibilities?" Fuming, he paced. "How would it have been read? _Soldiers of Gondor Slaughtered by Mere Woman, Under Captain's Supervision_…"

"That's why she's doomed to die? Because you fear her capable of slandering your repuation?" Faramir scoffed. "How about; _Fearing for their Lives, Gondorian Soldiers Slaughter an Innocent Girl_." In the midst of his outrage, Faramir happened a glance towards the girl, who was concious and fearfully taking in her surroundings. Faramir quickly glanced around, thanking Valar that no once noticed. He turned back to his brother. "It saddens me to think how this war has rid you of your humanity. If we take life without reserve, what makes us different from the orcs?" Before Boromir could respond, another soldier took his attention. Faramir took that as his opportunity to leave.

He walked without haste towards her, so as not to draw attention. He was saddened, for a moment, when he thought she had fallen back asleep, but as he stepped closer towards her, he noticed her jaw taught, and her hands clenched onto the blanket so tight that her knuckles were white. Faramir took another look around and took a seat next to her, as casually as possible. He pulled out his knife and began cleaning it. In his peripheral vision, he saw her eyes wide with fear.

"Fear not, maiden." He spoke below his breath so that only she could hear. "This blade is not meant for you… only the enemy which seeks to destroy Free Men. An enemy I am sure you are not a party to." He glanced at her. She was still frozen with fright. "Close your eyes. I must express the urgency of your predicament before anyone else is aware of your conciousness." She obeyed, and her hands relaxed slightly. He studied her fingers as he saw blood return to them. She had writing on the back of her hand, although faded. He tried to read the letters but they seemed hastily written.

Faramir returned to cleaning the blood from the intricate designs of his blade.

"Who are you?" She whispered. He hesitated, replaying Boromir's words of mistrust in his mind. ~The beauty she possesses is her warning to us, not an invitation. No Earthly woman can look as desirable as she. She is a witch.~

He glanced back at her, and wished he could order her to open her eyes once again. He remembered their innocence and the numbing fear they expressed to him. His heart ached for her misfortuned, but he had to keep a sound mind. If there was a chance she worked with dark forces, no matter how small, he would not let her fool him.

"My Name is Faramir. I am the Son of the Steward of Gondor." Her eyes furrowed in confusion. He had never heard those words before. "What is your name?"

"Tara," she whispered. "I'm American. From New Jersey." Faramir pinned her unfamiliar words on her exhaustion.

~There will be more time to question her about her origins later.~ "How did you happen upon our camp?" He asked quickly. Tara searched her mind. She had been trying to remember that since the merry chase .

"I… I can't remember."

"Milady, at this moment, I am the only one you may trust. I need to know how you found us for me to help you." He spoke urgently. He waited on her to speak, but she didn't. Her eyes were clenched shut as she desperately tried to remember what she did last before the emptiness of her memory. "I… I was with friends… we were travelling here. Our train is leaving in a few-" She sat up suddenly and gasped. "It's leaving! My train is leaving! What time is it?" She asked desperately.

Faramir stared at her with a blank expression and she realized her blunder.


	4. Chapter 4

She looked around, meeting many eyes. Some curious, some fearful, some livid. Especially the one furthest away from her. If looks could kill…

"Where am I Faramir?" She scrambled to get out of her blankets. "I need to get back to my hotel." She stood up and instantly regretted it. Her head spun as she fell back into Faramir's open arms. He lowered her slowly and tried to understand what she was saying.

Boromir was standing by his tent with another soldier when he saw Tara awaken. His eyes met his brother's. It was time. Faramir's gut turned as Boromir walked over to the pair, hand already on the hilt of his sword.

The Chief studied the woman and mentally applauded the master designer of her delectable beauty. What a mistress she would have been. But he knew better. He understood 'their' plan.

"Name yourself."

Tara stared up at him in acute fear. This was the same man who held a sword to her throat not long ago. He bent down and grabbed her hair, pulling her face towards him. He muttered viciously, "That was not a request."

Tara winced in pain and struggled to open his grasp. Failing, she looked up at him, terrified,

"Tara! My name is Tara…"

The close proximity to her let him breathe in a wave of intoxicating scent. For a moment his mind clouded with desire. He quickly counted how many days it had been since he had bedded a woman. Taking in another breath, he looked deep in her fear-filled eyes. He had never been with a woman as lovely as she.

But then again, she was a traitor.

"What are your intentions." Tara tried to turn to find Faramir but his grip was firm on her tresses. She felt tears prickling in her eyes as she realized no one would stand up to him treating her this way. He was their leader.

He yanked her closer to him.

Faramir's breath was quick. He couldn't defy his brother in front of their men, but he couldn't let him keep hurting the young girl. His heart was furious and torn.

"Again you defy me?" He spat.

"I don't know! I don't understand your question! Where am I?" She cried. Mustering up all her courage, she pushed back on his chest and scratched his face to free herself.

He let her go and pulled out his sword. She crawled backwards at the sight of it until she hit a tree. "You can't do this!" Tara stood and braved the sword. "You can't touch me! Who the fuck do you think you are!" She found a pack next to her and grabbed the shield.

Boromir felt the deep scratch on his cheek tingle. His rage was evident.

"Boromir, that is enough!" Faramir stepped between them. "We cannot harm her. She is a woman. According to our laws, she must have an impartial trial before we condemn her." He stepped closer to his dear brother. "And it is clear that you are not able to be impartial at this moment." Both brothers stared each other down.

"Look, I don't know what's happening. What have I done? Why is he trying to kill me?" She asked exasperated. "Why is NO ONE answered my questions?"

Boromir sheathed his sword. It was clear Faramir was enchanted but his words held truth. Gondor had laws. And as an heir to the Stewardship of Gondor, abiding by those laws meant preserving them.

"You are a prisoner Tara. We don't answer your questions. You answer ours."

"But my train! My train is leaving. My friends are going to be looking for me… they can't miss their train, Faramir." She dropped the shield and touched his shoulder. She looked like she was going to cry. "Please help me Faramir."

"What is this train you speak of, milady?"

"It's scheduled to leave at 1 in the afternoon day after tomorrow." She racked her brain. "The station… it's called, um… Dresden… or something like that. There's gonna be a stopover in Frankfurt and then it heads to Zurich." Without thinking, she grabbed onto Faramir's arm. "Please take me there, Faramir."

The brothers glanced at each other.

"I'm sorry, milady, but I have heard not of any city you named."

"Aren't you European? You sound British. Ah, it doesn't matter," She waved her hands in frustration, "We're in Germany right now, right? Zurich is in Switzerland."

They said nothing.

"Down south?" She prompted.

"Enough of this. You-"

"Wait-" Faramir stopped his brother. "Perhaps she is speaking the truth. Perhaps the Elves will know of these cities."

Boromir sighed. This wasn't going anywhere.

"Alright. We pack tonight and move at dawn. Let Elrond deal with the traitor." Boromir sheathed his sword and stalked off towards his tent. "Kaldin, bind her hands." He shouted before he disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

"Here, let me." Faramir took the ropes from Kaldin to bind her. Tara looked at him like he was crazy.

"What is that for?"

"My brother has ordered you to be bound. It is a protective measure until we know for certain what your intentions are."

"What the hell gives him the right? Is he a legal authority? You can't just tie people up without their consent, willy nilly…"

"Tara, your consent is not needed. You are a prisoner. Now please, give me your hands."

Her arms remained still at her sides. Faramir sighed inwardly. He didn't want this battle with her.

"Tara, listen to me, please. As long as you co-operate you are safe. We will take you to the Elves of Rivendell. They will confirm my suspicion that you are indeed not a threat. But until then, you must obey." His eyes pleaded with hers. But fear and confusion wouldn't allow her body to co-operate with these very basic instructions.

Faramir resigned to force and nodded at Kaldin.

Without warning Tara was being held in a body lock from behind while Faramir gripped her wrists and bound them. Tara writhed and cursed and managed to free herself by kicking Kaldin hard in the shin.

Kaldin cursed and threw her to the ground with a thud. Tara's legs buckled beneath her and for a moment she sat still, staring at her bright pink wrists and the chaffing rope.

~How can this be happening?~

Faramir ached to sooth her; shoo away her fears. She was by no means a helpless maiden but she was defenseless in this situation. Her tresses glinted in the Sunlight and blew haphazardly around her body in the increasing wind. He noticed her shudder and wanted very much to offer his tent to her. But he knew it would be improper. After a few moments of shock, she quietly cried, in the middle of the camp.

A few soldiers watched helplessly, picturing their wives, sisters, and daughters being treated this way. The other soldiers either sneered in disgust at the witch or cared not, glancing at the prisoner with indifference.

Faramir unclipped his cloak and draped it across her bruised and scratched body. He bent down close to her and took her hands in his. Her wrists were pink and scratched from the roughness of the rope. Silently, he wished he had been more gentle.

He left her, trying to forget the image of her lovely face.


	6. Chapter 6

The bonfire crackled loudly; a sound which normally would have soothed Tara's anxiety, but she was far too focused on her dilemma to reminisce on camping adventures of Summer's past.

A soldier walked ungracefully past her form and Tara jumped aside. ~This is unsafe.~ She thought to herself, biting her lip. Her inner voice spoke up in cynicism, ~Of course you're unsafe! You've been kidnapped! This isn't exactly a vacation!~ Tara's heart fell. This WAS a vacation. Her friends and her had saved two Summer's earnings to spend explore Europe and all her history. What unlucky star had followed her here?

She heard a grunt and a string of profuse curses and closed her eyes. She was going to lose her sanity to these wild beasts acting out their medieval fantasies. She needed to be close to Faramir.

He was asleep on the opposite end of the fire. She knew he wouldn't offer her much protection while asleep, but it was better than lying 'naked', as they called her, amongst a hoard of men.

She awkwardly arose to her feet, hugging the cloak tighter around her. She looked around cautiously at the curious stares and made her way tensly to the sleeping archer.

His arm was over his eyes, casting a doubt over whether he was truly asleep. She cleared her throat. No response. She tried again, louder. Faramir fought a smile. She needn't make subtle sounds to get his attention. He was an archer after all. He could hear the sound of a deer grazing 50 yards away. And he knew someone had approached him, hearing the soft steps of a woman.

"Yes milady?" He asked, arm still over his eyes.

"Um, can I sleep with you?" The arm raised instantly. "No! I mean, can I sleep next to you! Next to you, not… not with you. Just here," she pointed nervously to where she stood.

"Why?" He prodded, wildly enjoying the beautiful prisoner's embarassment.

"I feel safer with you." Tara swore under her breath. She sounded like a love-struck school girl. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, waiting for him to accept. Faramir eyed the girl, who stared at her feet in shyness. He tried not to smirk as he noticed she was wearing her cloak upside down. He shook his head to himself and finally said,

"Do as you wish milady." He answered, resigning himself to sleep once more.

Tara sat down at first, cross-legged, staring at her wrists. They were mighty itchy and the pink cuts of her skin were only getting pinker. A cool breeze wafted past her, drawing a shiver from her neck down to her spine. She glanced around Faramir and found a pile of blankets and covers next to him. She reached over him and pulled over the thickest one. In the blink of an eye, he caught her wrists above her and glared at her menacingly. She stared at him wide-eyed, not breathing. He stared a bit longer and noticed the blankets she disturbed. In an instant he realized his mistake. The knife at her heart glinted the orange light of the fire back to him, and he let her go, quickly sheathing his knife.

"Forgive me." He muttered and waited a moment before pretending to return to sleep. His heart was beating erratically and his body hummed from seeing her body as open to him as it was. The fear in her eyes made his heart ache, but he was too prideful to apologize just yet. Faramir thought for a moment… how unlike him.

He heard the woman lie down, covering herself with her new-found blanket. He spent almost an hour, listening to her breathing. Her breaths were inconstant, which meant sleep would not take her. He attributed her apparent insomnia to his hasty attack. Sighing to himself, he reprimanded his behaviour in his mind, decided that he should have comforted her after the incident. Not just gone to sleep. He shook his head, ~I am seeing far too much of my brother in myself.~

He slowly turned towards her and met her eyes, wide-open.

"You cannot sleep?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do to help that?" He motioned to the pile next to him. "Would you like another?"

She shook her head, holding back tears at his sudden kindness. This ordeal was an emotional roller-coster if there ever was one.

He noticed her downcast eyes and teeth gently biting her lip. The sight of her mouth triggered a burn in his body. Not a physical one, but Faramir knew what images would be plaguing his mind tonight.

"I am sorry holding my blade to your breast."

Tara shook her head. It wasn't his fault. Everyone here was crazy, including him. Tara smiled softl as she imagined herself confessing her thoughts aloud.

Faramir caught the smile and stared. The wind picked up and her hair flew around for a moment. Faramir didn't stop himself this time. His rough fingers moved the silky strands behind her ear. Tara watched him with wide eyes. The archer cursed to himself as he realized what was happening. Witch or not, he was under the spell of her unusual beauty.

Tara studied the man next to her. His eyes were what struck her most. She had never encountered such a vivid blue before, and against his pale skin and auburn hair, they were shockingly lovely colour.

"Tara, you must tell me what your intentions are."

"To get back home."

"Do you intend to harm my men?"

"Unless one of them touches me first, no." Tara giggled gently. "Except your leader over there," she motioned to Boromir's tent, "Him I'll harm unprovoked."

"He is my brother."

"Surprising. You're nothing like him." She sighed and turned to face the stars, feeling humbled under their vast presence. Faramir took the opportunity,

"How am I like?" Tara, feeling her body's need for rest now, spoke the truth, uncensored.

"Gentle. Kind. Humane." Faramir listened intently. "Your eyes stopped me in my tracks when we first met." She recounted her injury/blackout. "Or… the second time." She yawned. "If I met you a few days ago, and ya know, I wasn't kidnapped… I probably would have…" She laughed to herself, "My _intentions_ would have been different."

Faramir, pleased and intrigued, asked,

"How do you mean?"

"I would have made you ask me out." She laughed. "Do you know I've never slept outside of the city before? The light pollution only lets us see 3 or 4 stars on a clear night. This," She motioned to the sky, "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Faramir murmered in agreement. He had never seen anything more beautiful as she.

* * *

Hi! I rewrote Chapters 2-4 because they were kind of rushed. I'm a sadist so I like to draw out the torture… because waiting for a sex scene in this story is torture for me too, lol.

Lanjana - You've written so many LotR fics! Why aren't they in English : ( Why Lanjana? GondorRepresent - Sorry I haven't updated in so long… if you've found another Boromir fic in the meantime, please tell me! I can't get enough of him. sydman24 - Thx! ^_^ I got rid of those parts for now tho… But they'll be back up soon! And much better written this time :P amberhathaway - Thank you! I shall! JustWriter2 - Ha! No! Well, yes, maybe. I dunno, before I deleted the old chapter, I almost (almost) considered adding Eomer into the mix. Or Legolas. Or you know, someone besides orcs. Any ideas would be appreciated : ) Labyrinth Lover - Yay! Ok! ^_^

Sorry I haven't updated in 6 years. I'm 21... I'm at that age of transition, so there are many changes happening which leave me hard-pressed to even write emails. But if you're still with me, thank-you for reading! All your reviews have been framed. Not really. But I love them still : ) Thx ^_^


	7. Chapter 7

Tara glanced around at the caravan holding her hostage. While her mind's eye kept consistent guard of the Leader and Faramir, she took an account of how this psychotic, medieval regime worked. There seemed to be soldiers, one cherubic-looking healer, two soldiers who did most of the cooking. Two men rode horses, while everyone else walked.

"They are injured."

"What?"

Faramir nodded in the direction she was staring.

"They are injured. That is why they ride and we walk. I apologize. We do not have another steed for you. The rest were lost during battle."

"I'm surprised that I'm not being dragged by my feet by a horse, with Captain English over there." She muttered. She glanced down at her wrists. They were beginning to become itchy and inflamed. Faramir noticed and made a mental note to reaffix her bindings.

For the first time, she took in the clothing of the men in detail. There was a lot of blood spatter.

A chill ran up her spine. Was that real blood?

Her mind took her to dark places as she replayed a horrendous scene of a film she once watched. It was post-apocalyptic. The scene showed no gore, but the sound of a woman screaming as, inside a large mansion, she was being hacked apart for food by her prisoners; regular people. The sound of the thud of axe against wood, followed by her chilling screams always haunted Tara.

Faramir noted her faraway glance and the look of ice in her gaze. He wondered what she could possibly be thinking.

"Tara. You are in the hands of the Soldiers of Gondor. You are as safe as can be. Have I not assured you of this?"

She blinked out of her horrific reverie and subtly glanced down at his uniform. Blood stained his clothing, too. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, feigning a dislike of the cold and dewy morning. In truth, her mind was reaffirming her goal: ESCAPE.

~Never let them reach Point B.~ This was a motto she learned from a TV show called Oprah. Tara was not an avid watcher of Oprah, but had happened to watch an episode that warned of kidnapping and how to survive it. A guest on the show recounted her story of being wrestled into the trunk of a stranger's car. She knew she had to escape before the car reached it's destination, or else she would die. She escaped, of course.

~Never let them reach Point B.~ She reaffirmed in her mind. She glanced around again at the numbers she was up against. Scenario's flashed across her mind's eye.

Tara's shoe snagged under a wayward tree root and she stumbled. With a huff of exhaustion, both of her mind and body, she glanced a desperate look around for anything she could use to her advantage.

Her eyes met with Boromir's. They stared coldly at each other. In an instant, Tara had her strategy in mind.

Tara planned to escape... this night.  
_

Faramir concentrated on the sights and sounds around him. He was on patrol for the night, as requested by Boromir. The elder brother wanted to give Faramir a night of relief from the witch; her lucid nature was putting Faramir under a spell. He could tell. A fearsome warrior, but a young man with a soft heart... That's what Boromir thought of his little brother.

It pained him to put Faramir on watch when he had already been so exhausted from extensive perimeter set-ups, but he had no choice. The black-haired girl was treacherous.

Boromir looked through the opening of his Command tent and watched Faramir from afar. His thoughts wavered back to the witch, to her face. Boromir was not made of stone. He was a red-blooded man, after all. He had captured her scent by happenstance during their trek earlier this day. He was caught unawares and for a moment and allowed his thoughts to feast on her mirage.

He closed his eyes and recaptured the feeling of heat she provoked in him. He allowed himself a moment to quietly revel in her lucid spells.

Her thin coverings betrayed the illicit curves of her body. Her hips swayed gently as she walked and her streaming jet tresses billowed behind her, beckoning him to take her. Her legs were bare and he couldn't help but stroke her thigh in his mind, feeling the softness of her skin, imagining her legs wrapped around his waist as he took her. The movement of her breasts as she walked betrayed the witch. Boromir sighed, frustrated.

"Faramir." Her uncertain voice was small.

"Yes, milady?" The hunter replied without looking at her. "Have you grown weary of your fell tree?"

"What?"

Faramir turned towards her with a small smile.

"You've been hiding behind that fallen tree since dusk. A feat for the ordinary maiden you present yourself as." With a grimace, Tara pictured a ditzy airhead, with no ambition and no aptitude for anything except keeping a mental note of the remaining balance on her credit cards.

"I'm no ordinary maiden." Tara declared, defiant to his judgment.

Faramir's eyes locked onto hers.

"No. No you are not."

Motionless, the two stood there until Faramir returned his focus onto his perimeter watch.

Tara shook her head, asking herself why it mattered what he thought of her.

~Stupid. Focus.~

The moonlight reflected off of his auburn hair. The slight wisp of a breeze animated his inanimate self. His gaze was focused on the clearing before him and his hands were clasped behind his back. Tara took in his aura. It was... regal, almost. It almost made this renaissance fair/international kidnapping incident feel legitimate.

Faramir was tall. He was handsome. His shoulders were broad and his frame slim, but firmly built. His scent was of rich leather and his voice was deep and masculine. No terrifyingly so, as his brother's, but in a thoughtful, brooding fashion. Absurdly, she had the desire to feel his hands. To feel the roughness or softness, any calluses or scars.

Hands were always telling of a man's character, she thought. A firm handshake was telling of a man's inward confidence, even if he was outwardly humble. Tara sensed this from the man before her.

In a flash, she pulled the handsome kidnappers hand into hers. Faramir's eyes riveted to her, considering the impropriety. He cast a quick glance around. The mysterious girl clasped his hand gently but firmly with one of her own, while the other ran fingers lazily over the grooves etched in his palm. She smiled to herself.

"You'll have a long and happy marriage." She murmured without lifting her gaze. Faramir listened intently. Was she performing her craft? Was Boromir right all along? "You'll have 3 kids," she paused, "and only one significant illness in your life." She ran her fingers over his palm some more, but now, only to feel the masculinity of his large hands.

A quick gust of wind lifted her tresses wildly and blew a curtain of darkness around them both. Tara closed her eyes, revelling in the feeling. Being in this hostage situation had heightened her senses immensely. She suddenly found acute pleasure in the kiss of wind against her cheek, or the rustling of the trees above her as they sang to her. She sighed and opened her eyes to meet Faramir's. His focus was zeroed-in on her. He was at war with himself.

Boromir warned Faramir of her spells, her enchantment, earlier this day. Though Faramir could not tell if his utter fascination with her was because of her beauty, her spells, or the air of mystery that surrounded her.

Perhaps they were all forms of her enchantment, working in sync to possess his mind and his will. Or, perhaps, she was a woman. With a family and a husband, and a home that missed her presence. It would have been right for him to hope for the latter; that she was an ordinary maiden whom would be cleared of all suspicion soon enough, and would be sent home. But, he did not hope for this. Instead, Faramir found himself hoping that she was the creature of mystery and darkness that she presented herself as. He hoped that she had not been claimed and that she would let him take her. His goodness and her evil would clash, creating a formidable storm of passion and greedy lust, which were lurid feelings he had surprised from the moment he laid eyes on Tara.

"Anything else?" His voice was husky; his eyes intent on hers. Tara gulped, licking her suddenly dry lips. She lifted his hand to her neck, letting him relish the feeling of soft, female flesh. He continued to watch her as she forced his ministrations on herself, understanding that he was being seduced.

Suddenly, Tara's lips were on Faramir's. Her arms locked around his neck, pulling him down to her as she conveyed her lust for his body. Instinctively, Faramir wrapped himself around her waist, pulling her flush against his form. She inhaled the scent of luxurious leather and the musk of masculinity and felt her head swim. Breaking the kiss, she gasped for air and rested her head against his chest, steadying herself. Faramir sunk himself into her tresses, inhaling the perfume of most fragrant bouquets and sweetest fruits.

"Tara, you are my prisoner."

"Then do with me as you wish." She ran her hands up his sturdy chest and over his proud shoulders. She kissed him again, slowly this time, conveying her wanton lust for him. Faramir controlled his fervour. It was unbecoming for a high-rank soldier as himself to bed a prisoner. There would be consequ-

"FARAMIR." Bellowed a great voice.

The kiss was broken and Tara released her grip of the archer. Boromir grabbed her arm firmly and dragged her towards the camp.

"STOP! Let GO of me!" She squirmed and twisted her arm raw to escape his death clasp. "Faramir!"

The archer looked on, helpless, knowing he erred. Boromir was only doing what Faramir should have done. Faramir flinched as she cried for his aid. Despair filled his heart, but he turned back to the plains, continuing his watch.

Boromir dragged her roughly towards his tent. He fastened the fabric clasp of the entrance and threw her onto the rug before him. Tara scrambled to her feet and braced herself for his wrath.

She waited... stood frozen in fear, anticipating vitriol to be spewed at her, maybe even a hand.

But instead she caught his gaze. His eyes were glossy with lust or rage, she couldn't interpret. He let his eyes fall to her chest, then down her body, then back up to her pink face. Her hair was cloud of black; a mess, and her hands were shaking. She was livid and frightened at the same time, but the burn from her embrace with Faramir still raged in her belly. A quick glance up and down Boromir's form reignited her want. Her cheeks flamed. Like his brother, his shoulders were proud and high. He was thicker than Faramir and his aura was darker. Absurdly, in half-a-second, she noted that his hair was darker, and finer than his brothers, although his scent was the same. Deep, luxurious, rich leather.

"Do you think you can escape your fate with sex?" His question wasn't meant to be answered. He drew closer and Tara cautiously backed away. This enraged him. "Why do you fear my advance but seek Faramir's." He questioned. "He is not the one who can grant you freedom."

"I'm not waiting a week for you take me to that Riven-place." She uttered defiantly.

"I do not speak of Rivendell, enchantress." He stepped closer, breathing in her perfume. His hands snaked to her waist and he leaned into her ear. "I speak of me." She shuddered at his hot breath in her sensitive ear. Boromir felt the betrayal of her body and his grip on her waist automatically tightened. His need for her was growing quickly. If he wasn't a man of sheer will and unsurpassed discipline, he would already have taken her.

All he needed was her permission.

"Do you want to be free, beautiful demon?"

Tara held her breath, steadying herself. She counted in her head, 1... 2... 3

Tara slid the knife out of her makeshift sheath; the waistline of her shorts and held the blade gently but firmly to Boromir's neck. Boromir went rigid.

"I'll free myself."

Fury broiling inside of him, his handsome face glared menacingly at her and she almost wanted to laugh aloud at her victory. She planted a quick kiss on his lips and considered, absurdly, how much she wanted to fuck him. Along with her senses being heightened, for some reason, her body begged for sex.

"I'm sure you would have been fantastic to fuck." She sneered, salting the wound of his ego.


End file.
